


we're all rose-colored too

by thismagichour



Series: Bad Things Happen, but It'll Turn Out Okay [5]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Bad Things Happen Bingo, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Temporary Blindness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-21
Updated: 2018-12-21
Packaged: 2019-09-24 01:51:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17091854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thismagichour/pseuds/thismagichour
Summary: When Jester and Caleb are attacked and alone, they must rely on each other for comfort. Some of them are better at it than others.For the prompt "Loss of Sight for Jester/Caleb" for Bad Things Happen Bingo!





	we're all rose-colored too

**Author's Note:**

> Well, here we are again, posting a fic at 2:30 in the morning. I honestly cannot believe that these two damn actors who played SIBLINGS for like three years can still make me incredibly soft about them and I HATE IT. Listen, Jester is the Percy of this campaign, everyone wants a piece of her, I will not be taking questions at this time.
> 
> No beta, we die like men.

“Caleb?” The way her voice trembles when she says his name sends him sprawling through time. He hears Astrid’s laughter the last night before they returned to the Academy for their finals. Eodwulf had spun her into a dangerous dip that nearly dropped her on her ass. All three of them were drunk, and sweaty, and so, so young. She had laughed so hard she cried. Later, she didn’t cry. When the Master had told them what they must do to graduate, none of them had. He fantasized, sometimes, of all of them holding each other into the night, of them saying _no more_ , all of them deciding to draw the line and go home, instead of what they had done, which was clasp hands briefly and go to their separate beds, to sleep comfortably, if not peaceably.

“Caleb, are you there?” Jester says, sounding like she’s coming from underwater, and he jerks himself forcibly to reality. He drags his face out of the cold earth, blood streaming from his face. Whatever the mage had done, it had done a number on his head. He pulls himself to his knees with a heavy breath. This is, without a doubt, the last time Fjord or Nott lets him and Jester do something alone.

“Caleb, stop messing with me,” Jester says, still sounding a million miles away from him, but he can tell that her voice is thick with tears.

“I am here,” Caleb manages, finally.

“Where are you?” Jester says. Caleb comes to the conclusion that maybe something is wrong with his ears. He shakes himself slightly, to realize that it is a mistake as it sends sparks of pain shooting through his head, down his neck and shoulder. He lifts his hands to his ears and they come away wet with blood.

“Caleb, where ARE you?” Jester sounds more distressed than he’s ever heard her, so he finally yanks himself around to look at her. When he does, he goes scrabbling to her in the dirt on his knees.

“I am here, I am sorry, I am right here, my ears are ringing a bit,” he says quickly, bringing his hands up to take hers, reaching out for him.

“I can’t see anything,” Jester says, plaintively.

“Ja, I know, I am sorry, we will fix it, do not worry,” Caleb says, feeling panic welling up in his chest. He swallows, and he goes cold, because that is what she needs right now. As Jester looks at him, or rather, faces in his direction, it is obvious that she is blind. Her normally violet eyes are - bloodshot is not even a good word for it, they seemed to be actually full of blood, which is beginning to run down her cheeks in lieu of tears.

“You sounding like that is making me worry _more_ , Caleb,” Jester says, reproachfully.

“Ja, you are right, of course,” Caleb says, and the person speaking through him is a teenager again, with just the right amount of authority and empathy.

“Stop apologizing,” Jester says, “and be honest. Is it very bad?” She tilts up her chin so he can get a better look, and he is glad that she cannot see him turn away from her. If he forces himself to detach completely, he is gone to her, which, while helpful to him, is not fair, so he must walk the line for now.

“We will fix it,” Caleb says, finally.

“Is it very bad?” Jester says, louder.

“Yes,” Caleb says.

“Yes?”

“Yes, it is very bad,” Caleb clarifies. He ignores Eodwulf’s breath of _that cannot be fixed, Cay,_ in his ear. Eodwulf is not here, he knows that.

“Okay,” Jester says, and he can see Jester processing this, breathing, forcing herself to be calm. She should not have to do this, Caleb should be able to help her, he should be able to fix it. Jester does not deserve it, she deserves to be alright all the time. He takes her hands, still clasped in his, and he puts them on his face, places his hands over hers. Her whole body runs so warm, it feels like her hands are giving him a sunburn.

“We are going to find the others, and then Herr Clay will heal you right up, ja?” Caleb says to her, and his voice is perfect. It helps that he doesn’t have to focus on keeping his face truthful as well.

“Is this blood all over your face?” Jester says, her nose wrinkling up, squidging his cheeks a little.

“As always,” Caleb says, and smiles, because Jester can feel that.

“Is it very bad?” Jester says again.

“Ah, no, I am fine.”

“Are you lying?” Jester pokes his face a bit.

“I promise, I am not lying, I am alright,” Caleb says, solemnly.

“ _Feel better_ ,” Jester says, but it has a tone to it, and Caleb’s ears pop abruptly. He did not realize how much hearing loss he was experiencing until all the ambient noise comes rushing back.

“Nein, why would you do that?” Caleb says, pulling away from her.

“You said mine was very bad and yours was not very bad, and I only had a very little bit of healing so,” Jester shrugs, “it was the thing that made sense.” Caleb has no response to that. He tries, even, but the words catch in his throat. She could have given Astrid a run for her money, she really could.

“Do you have a sending left?” Caleb manages, finally. Jester shakes her head, and winces when more blood runs down her face. He idly wipes the blood away with his thumbs, and Jester grabs his hands to keep them there. 

“Can you message Nott?” Jester says. Caleb almost shakes his head before realizing that she won’t see it.

“She is too far from me,” Caleb says, “we need to head towards them.”

“My head hurts,” Jester says, and though Caleb can tell she is trying to be brave, she just sounds pitiful. Caleb does some calculations very quickly. If they are gone long enough, then surely Nott will come looking. And if they take some time here, Jester’s magic will heal her at least a little. More than anything he can do for her.

“We can wait a bit, if you’d like,” Caleb says, brushing his thumbs gently against her cheeks, “if you give me a few minutes, I can make a bubble for us.”

“Will you - can you hold my hand while you do it?” Jester says. Caleb nearly crumbles at that, just barely holds his composure, just barely keeps himself from dropping to his knees in front of her.

“I will not leave you,” Caleb says, serious. 

“I know,” Jester says, just as solemn.

“I do need both of my hands,” Caleb says, “but I will talk the whole time. Some of it will be magic, most of it will be gibberish, but that is always true.” It has the intended effect of making Jester smile, at the very least. He takes the eleven minutes to do the ritual. After his first few verbal components, he just chatters. He talks about Blumenthal, and of the Academy a very little, and finally, he talks about Nott. Occasionally Jester will make an affirming noise, but for the most part, she is silent. He does not look at her. 

“Traveler? Are you here?” Jester says, and Caleb is glad to not be looking at her. As he finishes the ritual, all the hair stands up on his neck. It is not his magic. It is the feeling of an otherworldly presence, coming from where Jester sat. And, coward that he is, he does not turn around.

“Jester?” He says, softly.

“Oh, are you finished?” She responds, sounding entirely normal. He does turn to her then, and she is sitting in the same spot where he left her, and there are a few more blood tracks down her face, but she is otherwise unchanged.

“Eh, ja,” Caleb says.

“Oh good. The others will find us soon,” Jester says, steady and sure of herself. Caleb reaches out to take her hand and adjust her so they are more center in his Tiny Hut. He sits next to her, holding her hand still, but she just pushes him to lie flat on his back. As he sputters, she lays her head down on his chest, one arm over him, and hums quietly. He feels the tension slowly seep out of him. He snaps Frumpkin to curl up next to Jester on his chest, and she doesn’t hesitate to scratch behind Frumpkin’s ears. Caleb, very slowly, unsure, puts his hand gently in Jester’s hair. Jester hums again, and he scritches her scalp, like she is doing to Frumpkin.

“I am not a cat, Caleb,” Jester says, her voice lilting up in amusement, and Caleb pulls his hand away like her hair is on fire.

“Oh, eh, I am sorry, I did not mean,” Caleb begins, flushing.

“No! I like it though,” Jester says, and grabs his hand to put it back.

“If you are sure,” Caleb says, stilted.

“You worry too much, Caleb,” Jester chides, and wiggles her head until he resumes petting her.

“I worry about you, that is all,” Caleb says.

“And Nott,” Jester says.

“And Nott,” Caleb says.

“And Beau and Fjord and Yasha and Caduceus,” Jester says, all in one breath, like saying it fast will trick him into agreeing.

“Yes,” Caleb agrees anyway, “and them.”

“It will be alright, you know,” Jester says.

“I should be the one telling you that,” Caleb says, after a long silence.

“Probably,” Jester says, “but I am smarter than you sometimes.”

“Yes,” Caleb says, and for once Astrid and Eodwulf are relegated to the past, where they belong, and he is here, in this moment, listening to the soft sound of Jester's breathing, “that is true, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Did it kill me to write the phrase "her violet eyes?" Yes, in fact it did, it sent ME sprawling through time to 2008, but that's canon, folks, what can you do?
> 
> If you're interested in more Bad Things Happen Bingo, which I will be chipping away at for approximately the next forever, or even if you just want to follow another obsessive blog, find me @calebwidogasts on tumblr, if I haven't been nuked off the site yet.


End file.
